


Jaune Just Right

by Sunder_the_Gold



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, he knows how to use his weapons, he knows what Aura is, he knows what his Semblance is, he still doesn't know a thing about girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:23:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7640032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunder_the_Gold/pseuds/Sunder_the_Gold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fixing" the character known as Jaune Arc requires the application of the Goldilocks Principle. "Not too lame", because that's a bashing fic. "Not too cool", because that's a Gary Stu fic. In order to get Jaune Just Right, the more you change, the more he must remain the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Shining Beacon

_"All I'm saying is that motion sickness is a more common problem than people let on!"_

_"Well, the name is Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue, ladies love it."_

_"They will! Well, I hope they will. I mean, my mom always says that... Eh, nevermind."_

Ruby chuckled. Walking and talking with someone who seemed just as awkward and clueless as she felt made her feel less out of place, and while "Jaune Arc" was firmly cementing himself as a hopeless goober in her mind, she appreciated how friendly and honest he was being.

But she wasn't comfortable enough with this strange new boy to walk with him without saying anything, and he had trailed off into embarrassed silence that just made her feel embarrassed too. She wracked her brain to think of a conversation topic, and in desperation, settled on familiar territory.

"Sooo, I got this thing," she said. Casually, she whipped Crescent Rose off the holster on her back, using the same motion to fold her baby into its scythe-form. The blade slammed into the ground with enough force to bury the tip into the paving stones.

Jaune perked up and drank in the sight. "Oh, a scythe?"

"It's also a customizeable, high-impact velocity sniper-rifle."

"That's cool!"

"So what do you got?"

He drew a sword from the sheath hanging from his left hip, and held the blade steady at chest-level, pointed straight at the sky. "This is Crocea Mors. My great-great grandfather used it in the Great War. This is still the very same blade he used."

"Really?! So it's not just a classic, it's a family heirloom! That's so cool! All students at Signal forge their own weapons, so I made Crescent Rose myself."

Jaune's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah, me too!" With a little desperation, he quickly grasped for the bulky, blocky white sheath on his belt. Much like Crescent Rose, it clicked and clanked as it unfolded and expanded into a full-sized target shield. "This is Crocea Ancile. When I started training with my uncle, Crocea Mors already had a sheath that could unfold into a kite shield, but it was a newer weapon and didn't have a name. My uncle said that Crocea Mors was a masterpiece as well as a piece of history, but he insisted that since the shield was already a replacement, I should make my own replacement with more modern technology."

Stars in her eyes, Ruby reached out to touch it. "So what do they do?"

"Well, mostly Crocea Mors doesn't break when I hit things with it, but no matter how hard or how many times I hit things, the blade doesn't dull. Uncle says it must be just as sharp as the day that our ancestor used it, and that's good enough for me."

"Oooh, I'm jealous! I have to sharpen Crescent Rose's blades every few weeks, and replace them every few months. All _four_ of the main ones in the head, and sometimes the others too. Each one is a custom blade! It's a pain."

"Sorry," he said with sincere sympathy.

"And the shield?"

He grinned, and pointed to a barrel hidden in the circle's edge. "It's also a gun." But he apparently felt that was enough of that subject, as he put his weapons away and continued walking in the direction they'd been going.

Taking the hint and following his lead, Ruby changed the subject to another source of curiosity. "So, why'd you help me out back there, at the courtyard?" Despite her first impressions of him, now he seemed like someone who truly belonged at Beacon Academy, like her sister Yang or anyone else old enough to graduate from combat school. Why was he spending time with her when she clearly had no idea what to do, instead of going on ahead to wherever they were supposed to be going, like Yang did?

But he didn't seem to care. "Eh, why not? My mom always says, 'Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet.'"

"Hmm." Not a bad philosophy. But more urgently... "Hey, where are we going?" Even if she didn't have a clue where they were supposed to be, or when, she thought that he was taking an oddly relaxed pace getting there and this didn't seem to be leading anywhere important.

"Oh, I dunno," Jaune said carelessly. "I was following you."


	2. The First Step

_"You know what else is great? Me, Jaune Arc. Nice to meet you."_  
  
_"Yeah, yeah. So, Weiss, couldn't help but overhear your fondness for me the other day."_  
  
_"Don't worry! No need to be embarrassed."_  
  
_"So! Been hearin' rumors about teams! I was thinking you and me would make a good one. What do you say?"_  
  
_"You don't say. Well, hotstuff, play your cards right and maybe you could join up with the winning team."_  
  
Weiss had had enough, and shoved her way between her future partner and this pest who was standing in the way of greatness. "Jaune, is it? Do you have _any_ idea who you are talking to?"  
  
"Not in the slightest, Snow Angel."  
  
Dust, she wanted to stab him in the face. "This is Pyrrha." Normally she would have used the champion's full name, but in this case she felt that gave more credit to Pyrrha's achievements if she implied that only her given name should be necessary to identify her. "Pyrrha graduated top of her class at Sanctum."  
  
"Never heard of it. But that's cool. Which kingdom?"  
  
Ugh, fine, he's a local rube. "She's from Mistral, where she won the Regional Tournament four times in a row. A new record!"  
  
"Neat. I haven't been able to watch any tournaments; I'll have to look her up."  
  
Out of ideas and too committed to her course, Weiss defaulted to a final resort she would later regret as a childish tantrum. Shaking her fists up and down, she growled, "She's on the front of every Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes box!"  
  
\---  
  
At Beacon Cliff, overlooking the Emerald Forest, Ozpin asked the assembled initiates, "Are there any questions?"  
  
No one spoke up.  
  
"Good. Now, take your positions."  
  
\---  
  
Pyrrha hurtled through the air, her shield Akouo held before her, as she flew without control towards large, solid tree branches at highway speeds. Yet like an impassive statue, she did not flinch and her arm held firm as she impacted, and it was the first branch, the second branch, and the third branch that broke against her. Only after the third did she move, having spotted a suitable landing spot on the fourth branch which looked like it would not break against her reduced momentum. Rolling over her shoulder and back to kill more speed, Pyrrha smoothly came back up to her feet, her sword Milo fluidly shifting into its sniper rifle form as she brought the scope up to her eye and scanned the skies.  
  
She spotted him descending from the sky exactly as she had, sword held back behind him as he braced his shield ahead of him to clear his path. Unlike her though, with each impact his whole body flashed with yellow-white light. She lost sight of him as he vanished into the foliage of a tree, from which exploded a light so bright it blinded the eye white like the sun at the same time that the entire tree shook. This was followed by a second flash from below the tree-line.  
  
His landing spot confirmed, the young woman leapt down from her tree in pursuit.  
  
He was gone by the time she arrived, as expected, and she lacked the woodcraft to notice any tracks he might have left, so she oriented herself to the North, hoped that his sense of direction was at least as good as all of the other people who didn't manipulate Polarity, and guessed what his most likely path would be.  
  
Her first clue was the sharp crack of gunshots. As she raced closer, her heart soared to hear Jaune's human voice raised alone in defiance against the howls of beowolves.  
  
When she came upon him, he was in the middle of whipping his shield around to smash a Grimm that tried to flank him while his sword was stuck in its packmate's skull. There was the sound of a Dust shell discharging, and the shield accelerated midswing. The strike left the Grimm's head flopping limply along its back; the bones of its neck completely disintegrated, and its head deformed.  
  
Without hesitation, Jaune adjusted the edge of his shield so that it pointed at another Grimm. The broad, outer side of the circular shield was facing Pyrrha, allowing her to watch the paired yellow arcs of the young man's symbol turn over as the embossed face wheeled around 180 degrees. Then a plume of gunfire shot out, and the charging beowolf's head exploded from the shell landing dead center in its gaping mouth.  
  
Jaune Arc _danced_ ; he used the recoil of the shot to pivot on one leg, stylishly sweeping his other across the ground as he bowed, neatly ducking under the swing of the last beowolf. His sword came up and stabbed it in the gut. The sweeping foot became Jaune's foundation as he stepped forward, brought his formerly pivoting up leg up, and lashed out with a kick that shoved the dead monster off of his blade.  
  
He looked up, blinking, at the sound of her applause.  
  
She tried to give him her best winning smile. "Do you... have any spots left on your team?"  
  
He blushed, and scatched his head with his sword hand. "Ah geez. How could I say 'no'? But why'd you pick me? You could have walked right on by and chosen anyone else, especially after _that_ performance."  
  
She frowned. "What was wrong with your performance?"  
  
"Uh, nothing!" he said too quickly.  
  
"Well, _'nothing'_ was wrong with it," the young woman said firmly. "You handled yourself well. I felt that dance step was a nice touch."  
  
"Aw, man, you saw that? My uncle was always grilling me about getting too fancy in battle, but when you grow up dancing with seven sisters, it's hard to escape the habits, you know?"  
  
"I don't think you need to worry about it. If it's what works best for you, then it works, right? And I liked it. You're a dancer then?"  
  
"That's right!" he said, smiling with happy confidence, which smoothly shifted into that silly persona of baseless arrogance he'd been trying to use to win over Weiss Schnee. "If you like, I could find us a dance floor when we get back. Maybe teach you a few moves."  
  
She grinned. "I'd like that."  
  
His persona shattered in surprise, as though he hadn't expected that to work and didn't have any idea what to do now that it had.  
  
Her grin became a victorious smirk.


End file.
